


Like A Ladder

by abriata



Series: Airplane Author AU [2]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 11:28:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3325802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abriata/pseuds/abriata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>author goes to a book club to which he was <em>totally invited</em></p><p>immediate sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3325754">start with something smaller</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Like A Ladder

Pete's only slightly nervous approaching the address Patrick gave him. He's about five minutes late, deliberately – he's found he's less likely to be shouted at or unceremoniously kicked out of places if there's a bunch of other people around. Patrick hadn't texted him, as much has Pete had honestly hoped he would, and there's always the possibility Pete will be barred entrance, but he's trying not to worry about that.

There was the even slighter possibility that Patrick had given him a wrong or fake address, but the cars parked up and down the street indicate _something_ is going on in the house he's standing in front of.

He can hear voices inside, faint, and when he knocks, they stop for a moment. Then the door is opened by someone who looks too familiar not to be Patrick's mother. She smiles at Pete in polite confusion.

"Hi," Pete says, and holds out his hand. "I'm Pete Wentz, a friend of Patrick's. He invited me."

Her eyes go very wide. "Pete Wentz," she says, and clears her throat. "Like the author?"

"Yeah," Pete says. "That's part of why he invited me."

"Right," she says. "Of course. Come in."

She gestures absently at the coat closet while she shuts the door behind him, so Pete takes his coat off obediently. Then she turns away from him, opens her mouth, and shouts, " _Patrick!_ "

Pete blinks.

"Through here," Patrick's mom says kindly, and leads him into the living room, where Patrick is cornered and talking to two women old enough to be his grandmothers.

"Patrick," Patrick's mom repeats, "your friend _Pete Wentz_ is here."

"Oh," Patrick says flatly, on turning and seeing him. "Come to complete my humiliation, have you."

"Always," Pete says blithely, hoping nobody else noticed how serious Patrick sounded about that. Honestly, Pete is not trying to humiliate anyone, but if someone _is_ going to end up humiliated, realistically, it's going to be him, not Patrick.

"Patrick didn't mention he'd invited anyone," Patrick's mom says, glaring at Patrick, and Patrick opens his mouth pointlessly, since she doesn't give him time to defend himself. "Or that he was friends with the author of the book I've been trying to get him to read for _the past month_."

Her voice goes up sharply at the end, and Pete winces automatically. Still cornered across the room, Patrick is gaping at the injustice of it all.

Feeling guilty, Pete lies, "We've only known each other a few months. And I think he wanted to surprise you."

Patrick seems to be trying to make subtle _shut up_ motions with his hands. Pete pretends not to notice.

"Really," Patrick's mom says, sounding deeply skeptical.

Pete shrugs artlessly.

Patrick says loudly, "He didn't know if he'd be able to make it tonight." He starts to make his way toward them, nudging between the women he'd been talking to.

"Luckily I could," Pete says.

"Luckily," Patrick agrees, way too brightly. He navigates around a coffee table and between two armchairs. "But don't you think—"

Pete is a master of the timely interruption. "I brought you flowers," he says, lifting his hand from his side to show off the proof, and thoroughly enjoys Patrick's expression at that. It only gets worse when a couple of the women start to coo.

"Great," Patrick says, hideously sarcastic. "We should go put those in water."

He hauls Pete back into the hallway and down to the kitchen before turning on him. He doesn't seem to notice he's well within Pete's personal space. Pete notices.

"You—!" Patrick says, and kind of flaps his hands a little, short on words to express his outrage.

"You invited me," Pete reminds him happily, and holds the flowers up between them.

Patrick stares at him, stares down at the flowers, takes the flowers, and slaps them down on the counter. Then he sighs, picks them back up, and grabs a vase from under the counter.

Pete snickers to himself, and while the water runs Patrick says, "Seriously, there's something wrong with you."

"I think you're supposed to cut the stems before you put them in water," Pete says helpfully.

"Then you do it," Patrick says.

Pete does, after finding scissors in the knife block. He offers the flowers to Patrick again, who's taken to staring at Pete like he's afraid Pete might bite someone.

The vase gets put on the kitchen table. Patrick's mom calls for them from the main room. Patrick calls back sharply, "Just a minute!"

"You did invite me," Pete says, more seriously.

"When I didn't know who you were," Patrick says. "And even then, I didn't really expect you to come."

Pete wants to be childish and point out that Patrick has his number and could've _uninvited_ him, but he doesn't want to give Patrick any ideas for the next time. Not that there'll be a next time. Pete suspects this is one of those make-or-break-it situations. "I can go," Pete offers.

"If you leave now, my mother will kill me," Patrick says flatly.

"I'll have a family emergency," Pete says.

Patrick sighs, but when he finally drags his eyes to Pete's, it looks like Pete's been slightly forgiven. "I just don't understand why you're here," he says, sounding plaintive.

"Because you invited me and I like you," Pete says, shrugging.

"But why—" Patrick makes a frustrated noise. "I acted like an idiot. I called your book self-indulgent trash."

"Hey," Pete says. "You never said trash."

"I still—" Patrick starts.

"But then you cried at the end," Pete says.

"God," Patrick says, and, impossibly, looks even more uncomfortable.

"I'd consider us even anyway, because I _asked_ you about it," Pete says. "But it was great, watching you react. _You_ were great."

Unfortunately, Pete's efforts at reassurance don't make Patrick look any better – now he looks ill _and_ embarrassed. He won't meet Pete's eyes. Pete bites back his disappointment and says, "I really can leave. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

A couple of expressions flicker across Patrick's face too quickly for Pete to catch, but he ends up shrugging, a short, awkward motion. "No," he says. "You should stay."

Pete breaks into a helpless smile. "Cool."

Patrick's mom calls for Patrick again, threatening to come get them.

"Don't lie too outrageously in there," Patrick says. "You said we've known each other for a few months and I wanted you to come as a surprise, I think that's enough."

"I lie when I'm nervous," Pete lies. "And I'm not a surprise?"

Patrick looks unimpressed.

"I thought the truth would sound strange," Pete says, more honestly.

"Because it is?" Patrick suggests.

Pete has to concede that.

After a second of silence, Patrick says, "Well, the flowers are a bit much."

"I thought I might need an icebreaker," Pete says honestly.

"I can't imagine why," Patrick says, but his voice is mild, and he might almost be smiling. Pete thinks he's been forgiven. Patrick steps aside and gestures for Pete to go into the living room first. He adds, "But now my mother thinks we're dating."

As he steps past Patrick, Pete says quietly, "That's the idea."

Patrick freezes in the doorway. When Pete sneaks a look back, he sees Patrick's blushing.

Smiling, Pete faces the room at large and says, "I hope nobody minds I'm intruding."

There's a chorus of 'no's and assurances that anyone's welcome, especially any friend of Patrick's, and wow, they didn't know Patrick knew any authors, never mind someone so famous, and wasn't Patrick ashamed for keeping this to himself?

Patrick makes a strangled noise of indignation from behind Pete's shoulder.

"Okay," Patrick's mom says quellingly. "Why don't you both sit down, first of all."

They get one of the couches. Everyone else is arranged in a mostly-circular pattern around them, and there's food on various tables. Patrick leans forward and grabs a cookie to stuff in his mouth.

"So this is Pete," Patrick's mom prompts.

"Yeah," Pete says. "It's Peter, but that's my dad, so I'm Pete."

"And what does the L.K. stand for?" someone else asks.

"Lewis Kingston," Pete says. "Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz."

"That's very nice," Patrick's mom says diplomatically, after a short pause.

"The third," Pete adds cheerfully.

Patrick mutters, "Oh my _god_ ," in a tone of utmost disgust. Pete grins to himself.

Patrick gets glared at by his mom. Pete grins harder.

"So how closely is the book based on your life?" one of the ladies asks.

At the same time, another one asks, "How long have you known Patrick?"

Patrick slumps back into the couch, and, coincidentally, closer to Pete, and mutters, " _Great_."

Pete sort of thinks it is.

And that's basically how it goes. Ironically, because Pete's in attendance, there's not much discussion of the book. Everyone alternates between asking questions about what writing is like - which Pete is used to handling, courtesy of book readings – and asking about his personal life, particularly his relationship with Patrick. Patrick suffers through it admirably, but once in a while he kicks Pete if he thinks Pete's gone too far.

Though for the record, Pete is _completely serious_ about wanting Patrick to do all the recordings for his audiobooks. It's not his fault Patrick doesn't believe him.

When questions and conversation have started to die down, Patrick's mom stands up and unceremoniously starts kicking people out. Everyone either grumbles good-naturedly at her or displays an overabundance of manners, thanking her for hosting. There's hugging and cheek-kissing.

Pete looks at Patrick, who rolls his eyes.

When everyone starts leaving in ones and twos, Pete reluctantly says, "I guess I should go too."

"Take your time," Patrick's mom says, and helps one of the older members put on her coat.

Pete's pretty sure Patrick's mom has figured some of it out: she'd been watching them speculatively, and Pete feels like he needs to start getting on her good side, and quickly.

Well, first he probably needs to work on Patrick, but Patrick's pressed hip-to-hip with him on the couch, so Pete's not so worried about him.

Standing reluctantly, he offers a hand up to Patrick.

"Walk me out?" he asks.

"It's cold," Patrick says.

"Was that a no?" Pete asks guilelessly.

Patrick looks unimpressed, but he totally walks Pete to the door. Pete's pretty sure this is because he's been well-trained by Mom, but hey, whatever works.

At the door, Pete buttons his coat and then stops and turns to Patrick. "So I'm doing a reading downtown on Saturday," he says hopefully. "You could come. I'll probably read one of the earlier chapters you despised so much. You can stand in the back and make derogatory comments, everyone will love you."

Patrick bites his lip for a second before his mouth folds into a smile. He says, "I guess I could do that."

"Awesome," Pete says. He rocks back on his heels, tucks his hands into his pockets, and smiles one last time. "I should go."

"Yeah," Patrick agrees.

Reluctantly, he heads out to his car. He's just stepped onto the frost-crunchy grass when he hears Patrick call, "Pete!"

He turns expectantly.

Patrick has followed him out. He says, "You need to tell me where the reading is. And what time."

"Or you could text me," Pete says.

Patrick huffs and says, "I will text you as soon as I get inside."

"Then I'll text you the address as soon as I get home," Pete says, smiling. This might be a lie – Pete might sit in the car while it warms up and respond before he ever leaves Patrick's street.

Patrick shakes his head in exasperation, and Pete rocks forward when Patrick grabs the lapels of his coat.

"It's like you're being deliberately difficult," Patrick says, and leans forward to kiss him.

Pete kisses back, of fucking course, like he's only been wanting to do since Patrick started reading him to sleep.

There's light flickering behind his eyelids, and it isn't until Patrick pulls away with an unhappy groan that Pete realizes it's the porch light. Patrick's mom is hanging silently and pointedly out the front door, flicking the light on and off. Her expression is way too serious for her to mean it as anything but a joke, and when they're both looking at her she retreats back inside, looking self-satisfied.

"I'm going to kill her," Patrick says seriously.

Pete laughs. "I get the impression she could take you."

"I'm thirty," Patrick complains.

Pete shrugs. "Your point being?"

"Ugh," Patrick says, and kisses Pete again, fast and hard. He shoves him back. "Get off my lawn."

"You're so rude," Pete calls when he reaches the sidewalk, in lieu of saying goodbye. Patrick doesn't even look back.

"It's icy, I could've slipped!"

At that, Patrick just waves a dismissive hand over his shoulder.

Pete climbs into his car, turns it on, and sits there shivering until it starts producing heat in reasonable quantities. He doesn't shift out of park until his phone lights up with a text.

_Think our flights back to LA will line up?_

Pete can make sure they do.


End file.
